


Hole in the Wall

by Tennyo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, I promise, M/M, based off a Twitter post, but ends well, it's a little emotional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:04:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6131575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Tennyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean deals with being alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hole in the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a twitter post:  
> <https://twitter.com/xxaeou/status/703773284668551168>  
> Screencap at the end for those who don't want to spoil.

Dean pulls into the garage after a long day at work. As the rolling door closes behind him, he gets out of his boring SUV and trails his fingers over the classic Impala on his way to the door. Baby’s gotten too expensive to work on, so she spends more time indoors than on the road anymore. But if the weather holds, he might take her out for a weekend drive soon.

Once inside the mudroom that connects the garage to the rest of the house, Dean slips off his shoes, hangs up his jacket, and pads into the hallway with sock feet scuffing across the hardwood floor. The house is dark and empty, and Dean turn on lights as he goes. Making his way to the kitchen, he deposits his keys in a little bowl on a side table, and opens the fridge door.

There’s not much inside. Looks like it’s time to get groceries. Some digging around in the freezer produces a frozen burrito, and while it takes a spin in the microwave, he checks the answering machine, beer in hand. No messages.  

When the microwave dings, Dean removes the steaming burrito, grabs another beer, and glances around the brightly lit, and otherwise empty kitchen. Suddenly feeling very lonely, Dean can’t handle the silence of the house. The den downstairs has a huge TV and awesome sound system, and he decides that maybe enough flashing lights and loud sounds will drown out the morose miasma settling upon his shoulders.

Out the kitchen and down the hallway, Dean passes by the railing that overlooks the stairs that lead down to the den. On his way down the stairs, his eye catches a black frame against the tan wall, surrounding a fist-shaped hole in the drywall. He stops when he’s eye-level, a sad smile on his face.

Just below the bottom right corner of the black frame is a small label that reads:

FIRST THANKSGIVING  
2015  
MEDIUM: HAND, DRYWALL

With a pang in his chest and a lump in his throat, Dean closes his eyes, takes a breath, and blindly makes his way past the frame, and doesn’t open them again until he gets to the bottom of the stairs. He and Cas had bought and moved into the house summer of 2015, and every little thing had been new, a cause for celebration.

They’d missed the fourth of July, but they’d had a cookout in the back yard for Labor Day, and Cas’ birthday had involved a made-from-scratch cake, beers with friends, and a late-night blowjob after everyone else had gone home.

Halloween involved Dean buying too much candy, decorating the front porch, and creeping out the few kids in the neighborhood that managed to come by that first year. He’d dressed as Frankenstein’s Monster, and had coaxed Cas into dressing like Dr. Frankenstein. Damn, but Cas had looked hot in that labcoat. As soon as he was sure that it was late enough to turn off the porch light, Dean had dragged Cas to their bedroom, where he spent a good portion of the evening calling Cas “Master”.

And then there was Thanksgiving. Dean had bought a too-big turkey, planned all the fixings, but it was just him and Cas. Sam said he might swing by later, but he had taken the Thanksgiving shift at the station so he could have Christmas free. So that’s how Dean ended up trying to cook a twelve pound turkey for the first time ever to feed just him and Cas.

Everything had gone wrong. The turkey hadn’t thawed enough, the pie crust got burned, his rolls wouldn’t rise. They finally ate late that evening, with a half-cooked bird, dry stuffing, runny green bean casserole, burnt pie. And this was all after having too much beer and wine during the day.

He can’t even remember now what had started their argument, he’s sure it was something stupid. But it had ended up with them yelling at each other, Dean stomping off to be alone, with Cas trailing after him. In a fit of frustration, Dean had screamed at Cas to just leave him _alone_ , and had punched the wall as punctuation.

The look on Cas’ face… It was full of shock, and maybe a little fear. They’d both stood in stunned silence for a full minute before Cas had turned on his heel and walked right out the front door. Dean had sulked in the den for a solid hour until Cas had come down with a store-bought pumpkin pie and sandwiches. After multiple apologies from both sides, and Dean swearing up and down that he’d never actually hit Cas, they made up and made out on the couch.

With a sigh, Dean looks at his cooling, completely unappetizing, microwaved burrito. Tossing it on the coffee table, he grabs the remote and starts surfing for something to watch. Too much reminds him of Cas, and he finally settles on a channel playing _The Blair Witch Project_ , already fifteen minutes into the movie.

Eating his burrito, Dean thinks back to the hole in the wall. He’d promised to fix it, but perhaps subconsciously, he saw it as a reminder of what could happen if he got too angry. As November rolled into December, he kept coming up with excuses to put it off. Finally, a couple days before Christmas, Dean decided to fix the hole before having company over. Cas had strangely argued against it, and had hung a boring, framed black and white landscape photo over the hole.

Christmas Eve, Sam had come over, and Dean had too much eggnog and made out with Cas while Sam snored in an armchair during a late night airing of _It’s a Wonderful Life_. The next morning, after Dean had gotten coffee brewing, Dean had started to go wake his brother sleeping in the den, when he’d seen what Cas had done. The framed black and white photo was gone, and in its place was the plain black frame around the hole, and the little label. When he finally caught up to Cas, he’d hugged him tight, and called him a weird, dorky little guy.

And now here he is, sitting in an empty house, with a microwaved burrito and a beer, alone. A couple hours later, he falls asleep under an afghan on the couch. Any lingering ache in his chest he chalks up to heartburn.

\- - -

Something soft is brushing his face, and it drags Dean up from unconsciousness. Low, rumbling words he can’t make out yet accompany the soft touches, and he realizes he must be dreaming. He has to be, because Cas isn’t home, he’s off in some third world country building an orphanage, or a school, or whatever the bleeding heart goes and does, leaving his boyfriend alone in their empty house.

But the touches continue, and the longer Dean focuses on it, the more he’s understanding from the low voice.

“—able to catch an early flight, decided to take a cab home.”

Reaching up, Dean catches the hand that’s been stroking the hair above his ear. “Cas?” he says with a sleepy drawl. Someone leans close and places a kiss on his forehead. Yeah, it’s either Cas, or a creepy stalker. Dean opens his eyes to see Cas in shadow, the TV behind him throwing him into silhouette.

“Do you always leave the house lights and TV on when you go to sleep when I’m not here, Dean?”

He wants to say it’s only nights that he’s lonely because Cas isn’t home, but instead, he pulls Cas onto the couch, wrapping arms tight around him.

“Missed you.”

Cas settles down half on top of him, nuzzling his neck.

“Missed you, too.” With a sigh, Cas says, “I also missed our tub and want to wash the travel stink off me.” He tilts his head up to look Dean in the eye. “You can join me if you promise to brush your teeth first.”

Dean frowns and tucks his chin down so he doesn’t gross Cas out with his morning breath. “Hmmm, sounds like a plan. You go get the water started.”

Planting a kiss on the tip of Dean’s nose, Cas crawls off the couch and scurries up the stairs. Dean stretches and sits up, glad that they spent extra getting a couch good enough to sleep on and not wake up with a sore back. After collecting his trash from last night and turning off the TV, Dean heads up the stairs.

This time, when he passes by the black frame surrounding the punched hole in the wall, he smiles brighter, because that was something he and Cas did together. And together, they’re good.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a twitter post:  
> <https://twitter.com/xxaeou/status/703773284668551168>  
> 


End file.
